


Melt

by Shachaai



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shachaai/pseuds/Shachaai
Summary: A moment in front of the fire, between afterglow and heat.





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from tumblr.

“That is a shockingly wasteful use of resources,” Austria complains as Spain leans over him to toss another log on their comfortable, crackling fire, his sleepy, fire-soaked lethargy disturbed by Spain’s movements.

Much nicer is Spain’s rumbling laugh against Austria’s throat when he settles on the rug behind Austria again, turning his face into Austria’s neck and nuzzling at the sweat drying on his skin. Spain’s hand goes back to the position it had been in on Austria’s naked thigh before he had shifted, his thumb stroking back and forth over Austria’s hip as Austria leans back shamelessly into all the warmth of Spain’s gloriously bare body behind him.

Spain had gotten them into this situation in the first place after all, pinning Austria amorously to the rug underneath him with his quick hands, quicker hips, and deep drugging kisses from his soft wet mouth, so he may deal with Austria leeching all of his body heat without complaint now all their clothes are off. There is a perfectly decent _bed_ just one room away that they could have made use of, with pillows and sheets and _blankets,_ but no. Spain had had to take them both to the floor, and been convincing enough about it that Austria had only thought to (truly) protest after the afterglow had faded and even the drowsy loveliness of Spain’s arms wrapped around him had been unable to shield them from the fact that their poor aching bones were one - now stained - fluffy rug away from the hard, unforgiving floor.

“Would you prefer it if the fire died and we became cold?” Spain asks in a teasing murmur, his lips parting on Austria’s pulse until Austria tips his head to make room for him - down, down, back down to the rug, his head pillowed on one of Spain’s arms and Spain half-behind, half-over him like a blanket made of candle-flame, and Austria melting wax.

Austria can see the firelight glittering in the corner of Spain’s eyes when he glances back, the deep shadows and gold the same light makes of Spain’s endless skin, and arousal hooks him hard in the gut once more. He can feel Spain beginning to harden against him again, Spain’s knee pressing restlessly between Austria’s legs.

“Have you reason to think we will be here long enough to grow _cold,_ Spanien?”

Spain’s grin is slow, and bright, and burning, and Austria tips his head up to taste it with his mouth.


End file.
